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4 Levels of “Show, Don’t Tell”

Sep 4
6 min read

Updated: Oct 12

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Your MMC catches his first glimpse of your FMC. How are you going to describe his reaction?


Like this?

“I could tell just by looking at her that she came from money.”


Or like this?

“As she walked into the lobby, she kept her gaze straight ahead. There was nothing new for her to see here—not the Statuario tiles, not the African blackwood and ostrich leather banquettes. These things had clearly been part of her daily life from the beginning.”


If you prefer the second option, you’re responding to a writing concept we call Show, Don’t Tell. If you prefer the first one, well, I don’t know what to tell you.

In any case, today we’re going to talk about how writers do—or don’t—use Show, Don’t Tell in their writing and how you can use it to make your own stories better.


One Rule to Rule Them All

If there’s a cardinal rule for writers, Show, Don’t Tell would have to be it. The idea is that authors should spend their time illustrating and demonstrating the key parts of their stories instead of straight-out explaining everything to their readers. Showing, instead of telling, is more immersive for readers, and at the same time, it gives authors more control over how their stories land in their readers’ heads.

But it can be difficult for writers to know if they’re leaning far enough toward the showing end of the scale without going too far...because it is totally possible to go too far. With that in mind, we’ve divided the Show, Don’t Tell spectrum into four levels so you can figure out where your writing falls right now, where you should be headed, and when to stop.

Level Zero

Your story relies extensively on exposition, explanations, and simple descriptions.

Level One

You let your readers infer some story details, but you often fall back on explanation, just in case.

Level Two

You’ve found a balance, using description when you can and explanation only when necessary to keep your readers from being confused.

Level Three

You count on readers to put the pieces together, and explanation is rare in your story.


Level Zero

We’re going to start with Level Zero, because at this first level, the writing is all tell and no show. Instead of encouraging readers to figure out anything from context, the author tells us what the characters think, feel, and experience. The writer starts with conclusions without following a path to get to them.

In the first example I gave at the beginning...which, by the way, is from an immensely popular spicy romance novel...the male protagonist sees his future wife for the first time, and the author tells us, in a single sentence, how he perceived her.

I could tell just by looking at her that she came from money.

The writer doesn’t show us how the MMC knew the woman’s family had money. Is it the clothes she’s wearing? The way she walks? The way she treats people around her? The writer leaves it up to us to sort it all out in our own heads, and there’s no guarantee that what we’re seeing is what the writer intended.


Level One

In the dark romance novel Lights Out, author Navessa Allen nails Level One. Her protagonist, Aly, is on the way home from her job as a trauma nurse after a particularly brutal shift, when she makes this observation to herself about the rising sun on the city’s skyline:

“By the time I dropped Brinley off at her townhouse, the sun was starting to rise over the city, glinting off the distant high-rises and painting the clouds a macabre ombre that ranged from the deep purple of new bruises to the arterial red of freshly spilled blood. God, I’m morbid this morning, I thought.”

The passage shows us how the terrible events of the day are literally coloring Aly’s thoughts even as she’s trying to forget about them. For a moment, the author pulls us into Aly’s head, where violent images are impossible to escape.

Unfortunately, the author retreats from the showing and falls back on telling with the final sentence, where Aly describes to us the point of what we’ve just read. It’s as if the writer doesn’t trust us to figure it out, so she makes Aly have an awkward and unnecessary thought, just to be safe.


Level Two

At Level One, the occasional showing is still sometimes overwhelmed by the tendency to tell too much and too often. If you’d remove the final sentence, the passage above would easily rise to the next level. At Level Two, the author trusts the reader to keep up and only resorts to explanation when it’s necessary to keep the reader from feeling lost or frustrated.

Consider this example from the horror novel Slewfoot by Brom. The protagonist, Abitha, has cast a spell to protect herself from a malevolent spirit that’s menacing her. We haven’t had any indication of whether the spell has worked or not. But then the point-of-view shifts to that of the demon:

The Darkness That Comes Before

“But Father didn’t move, felt if he tried, he might collapse. He studied the woman. What did she do to me? The vision returned–two shadows fighting. Was it real? Was it sorcery? Then he saw the spiders again, brimming about the edges of his vision, thousands of them waiting their chance to pounce, to cover him in their sticky web, to drag him back down into the darkness. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, trying to focus on the man and the woman.”

The author doesn’t write "The spell worked.” The demon doesn’t say, ”Good gracious, I seem to be under the influence of a spell.” We are shown the consequences of the spell, and we’re able to understand what’s happened at the same time that we’re shown the demon’s confusion.


Level Three

Check out this passage, which starts with the second sentence of R. Scott Bakker’s fantasy novel The Darkness That Comes Before:

“The citadel of Ishuäl succumbed during the height of the Apocalypse. But no army of inhuman Sranc had scaled its ramparts. No furnace-hearted dragon had pulled down its mighty gates. Ishuäl was the secret refuge of the Kûniüric High Kings, and no one, not even the No-God, could besiege a secret.”

The Darkness That Comes Before

Level Three is where Show, Don’t Tell gets dangerous. Throwing tidbits of information out to readers without explanation can be a way to build intrigue and curiosity. Especially in fantasy novels, where world-building is a big part of the fun, being immersed in a sea of details that don’t immediately make sense can make the story’s world feel big and rich.

But Bakker’s writing is considered some of the most difficult in the genre for a reason. In just two sentences here, right out of the gate, we’re teased with a plethora of details...an Apocalypse, an inhuman army, a god...or a No-God, whatever that is...an apparent line of secretive kings, and the possible existence of dragons, all with no clue given about how any of it fits together. Not to mention that some of the names seem impossible to pronounce out loud.

When you’re at Level Three of Show, Don’t Tell, you’re on risky ground. Some readers will love it. Some won’t. This is where you need to know your audience and your goals as a writer. In many cases, Level Three is not the right place to be.


Mastering the Balancing Act

Show, Don’t Tell earns its place at the top of the list of writerly rules, but like all rules, it’s subject to exceptions and caveats.

On the plus side, Show, Don’t Tell helps the reader by not forcing them to do all the work in imagining the story’s nuances. It helps the writer by letting them maintain control over the subtle details of the story. It makes the story more believable because it doesn’t force characters to unnaturally explain details that could be shown instead. And it allows for deeper, more layered situations overall.

Show, Don't Tell
is reader-friendly.
Your readers don’t have to create story nuances on their own.
Show, Don’t Tell allows authorial control.
You, not the reader, decide the details.
Show, Don’t Tell
is more believable.
Your characters don’t have to engage in unnecessary exposition.

However, there’s always a danger of going too far, making your story’s explanation so sparse that readers struggle to understand what’s going on. That’s rarely a good idea.

For most of us, our stories are at their best when they’re at a solid Level Two. That sounds easy enough to achieve, but it’s no simple feat to stay there with your writing, without sliding one way or another.


If you want more tips about how to get your writing to its sweet spot and keep it there, become a member of our writing community.

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